The Pirate Empress

by Deborah Cannon

  Before Tao left her on that bleak and miserable island, he had taken a broken reed and soaked it in the poison she had spilled over the fire. Some of it had slopped onto the icy ground. Before the spill froze, he had sopped up some and stoppered it in the reed. Though by now the liquid was completely absorbed into the reed’s fibres, it was still potent enough if she chewed on it to release its cleansing effects. It could no longer kill the fetus as the fresh brew would have, but it could induce early labour.

  Tao had made her promise not to use it except under the direst of emergencies. Li could think of nothing more dire than this. At this stage of her pregnancy the mother would suffer more than the child. Her life was as much at risk as his. Did she dare?

  Li dug into the toe of her shoe where she kept the slim, stoppered reed. It was the thickness of the tip of a chopstick and the length of her baby finger. Live or die. She must take the chance. Every other time she had been required to make a life and death decision, she had dived in, eyes wide open, without a thought to the consequences. Now? Now, she knew Wu’s life depended on whether or not she lived. She gouged out the dead grass that plugged the two ends of the reed and shoved them into her mouth, followed by the reed itself, and chewed. A horrible, bitter taste mixed with her saliva as the fibres of grass and reed formed a coarse, unpleasant wad on her tongue. She swallowed the acrid taste, before chewing some more, until she thought her stomach might heave up its contents before the poison worked.

  In a matter of minutes, she was doubled over in agony, and one tremendous contraction had her toppling to the floor. A passing sailor outside her door heard her fall and cry out. He rapped at the door while Li curled into a ball. “Madam Fong. Are you well?”

  “No, Seaman, call my husband. The baby is coming.”

  “But you’re not due—”

  “The baby doesn’t care about schedules. Call my husband quickly. We must find the medicine woman, Madame Choi.”

  The sailor muttered something about a ‘pirate witchdoctor’ before his footfalls pounded outside on the deck. She took advantage of the silence to spit the wad of reed fibres into her hand and discard it under the bunk. Just in time, too, because a few seconds later, Admiral Fong swung open the door with two sailors, rushed to her, and dropped to his knees. “Lotus Lily, what can we do? We have no midwives.”

  Now was not the time to scold him for deviating from the original plan. They would have hit the Yellow Sea and met Beijing by now had he not changed his mind to return to the south coast and attack the looting pirates.

  “How far are we from land?” she asked.

  “Too far. From your groans and the movement of your belly, it seems the boy is ready to greet the world.”

  Li swallowed a gasp as another contraction sent knives of pain into her core. “You must seek out Madam Choi, else neither I nor your son will survive this catastrophe. The last she told me of her plans, the squads were headed to Chiang-ping.”

  Chiang-ping was Captain Ching’s headquarters in Vietnam, and to reach it, one had to travel up the White Dragon Tail Passage, which opened from the sea. The hidden pirate’s den was easy to defend because its location on the river limited the size of craft that could approach it. It was very likely Admiral Fong’s warship was too large. Access to the den was difficult by land, cut off from the continent by nearly impenetrable terrain. Pirate booty was bought and sold there. That was where Captain Ching would ransom the ferryboat women, and that was where he would sell their possessions and all of the loot he had taken from the sunken Say Leng.

  Hopefully, the pirates would still be there; otherwise where else could they search? If Fong didn’t find Madam Choi soon, Li and her baby might die.

  “Help me get her up onto the bed,” Fong order his men. The two sailors that had accompanied him each placed a hand under her arms and shoulders, while her husband lifted her legs. They laid her flat on her back, but she immediately coiled into a ball.

  “What can I do?” Fong demanded.

  “Find Madam Choi,” Li gasped.

  Fong turned and sent his men out ahead of him. He shut the door and Li was left with her agony. A spasm shook her from heel to chest and she almost regretted her impulsive action. I will survive this, she told herself. I must. She pinched her eyes tight and inhaled. This could well become the biggest battle she had ever fought. Fong’s son was determined to enter the world, but how to help him? He was positioned much too high in her abdomen. She kneaded her stomach, hoping to detect his feet at the upper end of her belly.

  Another contraction squeezed the breath out of her. How much more could she take? Wu’s birth had been a trifle compared to this.

  She blacked out her mind and thought of nothing but empty space, focused on a bright spot behind her eyes. How soon one forgets, she chastised herself. She snapped open her eyes to stare at her swollen feet. Swollen from the pregnancy, but whole, and not in pain at all. Nothing compared to the torture of having your feet broken and bound. Practice your form like you were sparring and spar like it was a form. You are a bird, a magnificent eagle. You can fly!

  Tears wet her eyes. She must get out of this alive—if only to unite Wu with his father.

  “A ship, a ship!” she heard through the cabin walls. “Flying the red flag.”

  The red flag. Red Squadron. That was Madam Choi’s fleet. If only they don’t come to arms, if only they recognize each other before they blow one another out of the sea.

  Li braced herself and rolled off the bunk and onto her feet, dragged herself to the porthole to stare outside. The red flag was raised, a warning to the warship to stand down or risk a broadside; and at the prow the ominous figurehead of the snake-bodied, nine yellow-headed Xiang Gong ploughed headlong toward them.

  Fong ignored the warning, remained on course. Madam Choi also stayed her course. Then, without warning, she fired a round of cannon. Fong returned fire, obviously failing to recognize Madam Choi’s ship. If they continued this way, one or the other of them would sink.

  Li clawed her way to the door and hauled herself onto the deck. Beside the helmsman, Fong was ordering another round of cannon fire. Li shouted, “That is Madam Choi’s flagship. Stop firing or you will bring death down on all of us, especially your unborn son!”

  She collapsed onto the deck, writhing in agony. This boy wanted out. Fong grabbed the blowhorn and shouted, “Lotus Lily is aboard this ship! If you want to see her alive, stop your fire!”

  The cannons from the Red Flag ship ceased, and Madam Choi appeared at the rail. “Why are you here?” she demanded. “I thought you had returned to the Forbidden City.”

  “Lotus Lily needs your help.”

  Madam Choi ordered her men to stand down while she took a serpent boat to the warship. Once on board, she laid Li down on the deck and examined her. “This woman must be put to bed straight away,” she said. “I must take her back to my junk where I can treat her properly and ensure the birth of your son.” Before he could object, she added, “I need my medicines and the skills of my daughters. I need a birthing tub and you do not have one on your ship. If I do not take her in the next five minutes, mother and child will die.”

  %%%

  Admiral Fong scowled at the insolent men under Madam Choi’s command. These south coast pirates were the worst of the lot. Not only were they robbers but they were also defectors who worked for the deposed Tay-son family, the former rulers of Vietnam. The White Tiger had been tracking them for quite awhile, and in the years that he had worked underground he had learned the ways of the pirate traitors. Ties binding their leaders and followers were based on personal alliances; Tay-son sponsorship increased their battle skills and taught them discipline, and that was why they were so hard to eradicate. Small gangs of pirates were joined under one leader, and often these leaders would join forces with shore bandits to ransack and plunder innocent villages on the coast. But when Madam Choi revived her husband’s method of organized looting, the pirates got the upper hand. They plotted in the
beachside taverns, joining up with huge gangs and slipping the jaws of justice.

  For many, social mobility on land was denied them. But as pirates in an organization they could have rank, wealth and prestige. He knew even before meeting up with Madam Choi, what the Tay-son called her: Queen of the Eastern Seas. And this Captain Ching, he was better known as the King-Who-Pacifies-The-Waves. The Tay-son confirmed military rank upon these rogues and gave them incentive to rob and plunder, and although Fong knew this was a temporary survival strategy, they who began their careers as destitute fishermen and labourers, now had a way out of endless poverty.

  The promises of the Tay-son were too attractive to ignore, and even in the short time that Fong had been away from the pirate waters, unstable leadership in the Vietnamese court had made smugglers of Chinese pirates. Profits were guaranteed for bringing in Chinese wealth to sustain the former royal family. And until they recouped their stolen empire, they did not care how it was done or who helped them. At each port as Fong voyaged south from the Yellow Sea, word had slipped to him of a notorious Chinese pirate who now flaunted the Vietnamese style. They called him Mo Kuan-fu—the Pirate King.

  Fong looked up from his musings and beckoned to a boy who was poling a raft between the pirate junk and his warship.

  “I wish to talk to you, son. I don’t mean to harm you. Your mother is birthing my son. And Lotus Lily is my wife.”

  The boy was Po, and his expression did not change. He stared suspiciously at the admiral, then poled his raft to the side of the ship and was helped aboard via a long rope ladder. Fong studied the thin, tall lad who said, “I will not tell you anything concerning my mother’s squadrons or her associates.”

  “Your mother and I have formed a truce until my wife and son are back on board. I mean them no harm.”

  “Then what do you want with me?”

  “Do you intend to serve your entire life as a scourge of the seas?”

  While Po laughed, Fong remained stern. This was no laughing matter. The pirates were strong, almost invincible and they travelled in fleets. This confederation under Madam Choi had six fleets—Red, Black, White, Green, Blue and Yellow Flag fleets. Red, he knew represented her own. When Po came of age—which could be any day now—he too, would sail under one of the coloured flags.

  “You are a hunted man, Po. Your mother and sisters, too, are wanted, and if you are taken by the Imperial Navy, all of you will hang, or worse. If you are judged to be a traitor like your associate the Pirate King, you will be subjected to slicing until the living blood has drained from your body. Do you know what an excruciating torture that is? You will long wish you could stab a dagger into your heart before the ordeal leaves you dead.”

  Fong shook his head and laughed as Po took a step backward. “That is a warning only. I asked you aboard to offer you an alternative.” He paused for a moment and let his eyes sweep over the grand structure of His Majesty’s finest warship. “The Emperor is in need of fine young men like yourself. You join my ranks and I will see to it that you move swiftly to a position of power. You know the sea and the water people. You would be a great asset to my crew.”

  Po scowled. “My loyalty is to my captain, who happens to be my mother. She is also a descendent of Shennong, which is why you won’t betray her. Without her skills, your son won’t survive this early birthing. Without her doctoring afterwards, he will not survive his first year.”

  “I’m not asking you to betray your mother. I am asking you to declare your loyalty. I know you’re a pirate. But whose needs do you serve: the needs of the Middle Kingdom or the desires of greedy, wretched social castaways who will stoop to any level to feed their avarice? Are you a Tay-son stooge? Or do you plunder for your family’s survival. Think carefully, son. There’s a difference.”

  “A pirate by any name is still a pirate,” Po shot back.

  “Yes, but not everyone agrees to disguise themselves as Vietnamese scum—like your Captain Ching.”

  “How did you know about him?” Po glanced at Fong’s ink black hair which had just the tiniest traces of white bands mixed among the black. His voice turned thoughtful. “I’ve heard stories about you since I was a little boy.”

  “The White Tiger eats little boys,” Fong said.

  Po involuntarily winced, and Fong sighed. “But alas, you are no longer a little boy. You have a choice. My purpose is merely to warn you.”

  “In appearance we serve where we best benefit. In our hearts, we serve for the survival our family,” Po said.

  “An acceptable answer,” Fong replied, and released the boy to re-join the pirate junk.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  The Flight of the Tiger’s Eye

  The suburbs of Beijing appeared on the red horizon beyond the fields and parklands. He Zhu pulled his visor low to mask his face as he approached. The road was empty, but he dodged between the farmhouses and sheds nonetheless. Ahead, the curved roofs of the Forbidden City shone golden in the late burning sun. Li’s last words tumbled in his mind: May Lei Shen protect you.

  It had taken months to return north, and the weather had turned against him with storms slowing his progress. It was as though the thunder god were blocking his return. He marched on foot now, forced to put his lame mare to rest when she stumbled over a rock and broke her ankle. It gave him no pleasure to slice his blade across her still beating throat.

  How much time until nightfall? Zhu measured the angle of the light against the straight wall of the citadel. He must find Wu. And if he couldn’t find Wu, then he must go to the northern frontier and sniff out Esen.

  He Zhu climbed a nearby tree until he got a clear look over the wall and the maze of palace courtyards. The throne room opened to a long, lily pool-flanked ramp that led to the public square. That way was barred to him, but he could enter via Lotus Lily’s chamber. Her room was attached to one of the inner courtyards; he remembered because that courtyard was next to Jasmine’s. He had a brief flash of memory, and then forced the image of the fox faerie’s beauty from his mind. Whatever he did, he must avoid the archway of the main palace. Sentries were posted there. He dropped out of the tree just outside the barricaded palace, and shot a nervous glance behind him.

  Since his arrival in Beijing, he’d had the unearthly feeling of being watched. Where was Fenghuang? Where had Esen stabled the phoenix? With its great mass, pheasant’s head and peacock’s tail, it would be impossible to hide. Zhu lowered his eyes from the sky to gaze at the Forbidden City as the red ball of the sun fell below the horizon, and the curved, hat-shaped roofs silhouetted against the night sky. He walked several paces back, ran full speed and jumped at the wall, then seizing the coping with his hands, hauled himself up, dropped into the public square and followed the shadows to the rear of the main structure.

  Concealed by his grey mantle, he met no sentry. He blended in with the whispering sounds and the dark movements of the night, following the maze of palace courtyards until he recognized where he was. He approached the brick wall of Li’s courtyard and peered over. A light drizzle wet the white flagstones; it was near bedtime and most of the palace household were preparing for sleep. Zhu eased himself over the brick impediment and crept behind the arched bridge. Below it was a lily pond, which he deftly avoided. A splash in the night would draw sentries here quicker than a horse could sneeze. Quietly, he crossed the stone patio to a cherry tree, and from there he tried to locate Li’s room. If empty and unguarded, it might be a way in.

  The windows were barred shut, and there were guards: two lazy shadows in the courtyard. Someone—a prisoner—was in Li’s former bedchamber. He threw a pebble to the far southeast corner to draw their attention. While the first went to investigate, Zhu skittered to the wall of the building behind the second sentry and knocked him out with a hand-chop to his neck. That should lay him out for hours. Zhu positioned his back against the wall mimicking a guard. When the first returned, Zhu stuck out his foot, tripped him and laid him flat on his back. His helmet had struck
stone, and Zhu checked to see that the guard was unconscious, but not dead.

  He approached the windows, peeked between the bamboo bars, and heard breathing and, every now and then, a stifled sob. He risked a glance behind him, then unsheathed his sabre and pried a bamboo bar off the window. Silence ensued and he peered inside the chamber. “Wu,” he whispered. “Are you there? Don’t be afraid. I’ve come to take you to your mother.”

  Rapid footfalls followed as the small boy stumbled across the marble floors to the window. “Zhu!” he said. “I’m so happy to see you. Where is Ma-ma?”

  “She had to warn Madam Choi of an attack by an Imperial warship. But, my boy, you are safe!” Zhu’s exuberance suddenly turned serious. “Where is Esen? Has His Majesty killed him?”

  Wu grabbed two bamboo bars at either end and poked his head out of the window. “I don’t think so. Soldiers took me away from him. I think they brought him to the dungeons!”

  “Good. Are you well? Did they treat you all right?”

  “I’m fine, but His Majesty doesn’t know I’m his grandson. Military Governor Zheng Min made me promise not to tell. He said the Emperor will kill my parents if he knows. And that he might kill me, too!”

  That was possible, but highly unlikely. Why would Zheng Min care? “I must take you away from here until we know the mind of the Emperor. You’re alive, so that’s a good sign. Where is the gemstone?” Despite the dark he could see the boy’s mortification. “I see you understand why you’re still alive. It’s because you have the Tiger’s Eye.”

  Wu raised his flushed face, eyes round, expecting a severe rebuke. “I’m sorry, Zhu. I stole it, but I put it back. Then the warlord forced me to steal it again. He took me with it.”

  “It’s not your fault, son. Though, in future, perhaps you will think twice before you touch another man’s possessions.”

  Wu lowered his head in a bow of deep contrition. Then, because he was just a little boy with a boy’s brief memory, the remorse switched to curiosity. “Does the gemstone show pictures for you as it does for me?” he asked